


Horse oder Pferd

by BearWithAHat



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019), War Horse (2011)
Genre: Friendship (kind of), Horses, Language Barrier, and also goes mother hen mode, arguing™, featuring My Awful German Abilities!, in which schofield relates with a horse, still a bit of angst tho, supposed to be lighthearted lol, tbh Blake is just baby, this is my self indulgent fic thank u very much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-04-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:02:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,993
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23678839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BearWithAHat/pseuds/BearWithAHat
Summary: Rescuing a horse with the enemy wasn't what Schofield had planned on doing, but then again, when the hell did his plans dictate anything nowadays?Or, the rescue scene from War Horse but with the 1917 crew because why not!
Comments: 4
Kudos: 17





	Horse oder Pferd

**Author's Note:**

> as someone who likes history and owns horses, you know I had to do this to em :0) that's supposed to be a clown face. Anyways, this is the first (and perhaps only) time I've written fic for 1917 so I'm sorry if its not quite up to par with some of the amazing writing this fandom has to offer.
> 
> There's a couple German words and phrases here and there but I need y'all to know that its not my first language and I would say I'm still somewhat of a beginner so please forgive me if it reads like a drunk toddler wrote it lol!

William Schofield guessed by the somewhat murky purple sky that it was still before sunrise when he was awoken by a hand fervently shaking his shoulder. He looked up at the owner of said hand to see Tom's worried face. His younger friend was making an expression that Schofield had eventually learned meant ' _I'm about to ask you for help and may or may not have a ridiculous idea,'_ and he braced himself for whatever was to come.

"Hey, Scho!" Blake whispered loudly.

"What is it?" he groaned in response, rubbing his tired eyes. Sleeping in a trench was never comfortable or particularly resting, even less so after being woken up only an hour or so after falling asleep.

"I need you to come look at something," was all Blake offered as an answer. His tone was urgent though, so Schofield let himself be pulled to his feet and led to the edge of the narrow trench.

"Look!" Blake stood on his toes to see over the top and pointed to a dark lump sitting out in the middle of the mess that was no man's land. 

Schofield couldn't clearly make out what he was supposed to be looking at. "What are you pointing at?" he asked, irritation seeping into his words.

"It looks like an animal or something yeah? I was watching it for a couple minutes and it looked like it was moving," Blake explained excitedly. Schofield looked over the edge again before responding. If he squinted his eyes hard enough, he could see something shivering among the rubble.

"Probably a cow, wandered about after it's home got hit," Schofield muttered, assuming that was the end of it. He made to turn away and go back to where he was sitting, but Blake clutched his arm to stop him. 

"No, no it looks more like a horse," the boy whispered.  
  
Schofield frowned, “did you really get me up just to speculate over animals with you?” It wouldn’t be out of character for Tom, though it was way too early for him to be putting up with this if that was the case.

“Well no, I figured someone should try to help it,” Blake explained. He cupped a hand to his mouth and whistled sharply, attempting to call the animal over.

A few other men, who were either woken up by the sound or already meandering around, took an interest in the commotion. 

“How do you even call a horse?” one man wondered. 

Soon enough, there were more than a few soldiers clucking and whistling, trying to get the attention of a horse that Schofield wasn’t even sure was still alive.

He didn’t join in the noise, instead opting to keep watching the figure. At one point, he could distinguish the sound of their adversaries doing the same from across the field. 

Part of him thought it was funny; here were two groups of exhausted, war-torn people, who were always either at each other’s throats or tensely waiting for their next brush with the reaper. But for one little moment in time, they both pushed that aside, focusing instead on trying to get a horse to come over, like little kids lined up on a paddock fence.

It was only when he heard a sharp whiny from the horse that Schofield realized why it wasn’t getting up.

“It’s stuck in the barbed wire,” he blurted out. The men quieted down, some shrugging and losing interest.

“So...should someone go and cut it out?” a voice among the crowd mused.

Blake volunteered himself in an instant, and it was all Schofield could do to instinctively grab him and pull him down when the boy attempted to climb out of the trench. He planted both hands on Blake's shoulders and hissed, "what is wrong with you? Do you want to lose your head?"

"We can't just leave him there, now let me go!" Blake retorted, gesturing wildly with one hand. Schofield thought for a second before responding to him. Blake had a pleading look on his face, and it was almost endearing how much he seemed to care about the animal. If only the whole world had the same goodness in their heart that he did, Will thought, maybe they wouldn't be stuck in a pit in a torn up field right now. 

"Look, I know someone should go and cut it out, but you can't just rush up there without a care in the world. Some hun would have made you into another one of those bodies laying out there. You never think before you act, Blake, and it's going to get you killed someday," he scolded quietly. In the back of his mind, Schofield was sure he sounded like a concerned mother talking to her rambunctious child. It certainly felt like that sometimes.

"Alright then, who should go help it?" Blake asked apologetically. 

Schofield sighed heavily and wondered why exactly his life had come to this. "I can go cut the horse out of the wire. Just...give me a handkerchief or something," he decided.

A white cloth was thrust into his hands. It was a bit torn and stained, but then again so was everything else they had with them.

He heard Blake wish him luck as he slowly climbed out of their trench. Schofield waved the cloth frantically above his head, hesitant to take a step forward. When nothing happened, he began to cautiously step in the direction of the downed horse, making sure the makeshift white flag was clearly visible.

A warning shot hit the ground near him at one point and Schofield ducked next to a fence post. 

One of his countrymen shouted, “he’s got a white flag, you moron, a white flag!” Schofield stood up cautiously when no more shots rung out, hoping he was in the clear.

He was only a few meters away from the horse, and could now clearly see the animal stuck with coils of sharp barbed wire wrapped around his legs, body, neck, and head. Labored breathing and pained groans from the horse made Schofield pity the beast.

When he was standing directly beside the horse at last, he put a hand on his shoulder for a moment, hoping not to startle him and make the damage worse. 

“It’ll be alright, we’ll get you out in no time,” he murmured quietly to the horse. Schofield mentally cursed to himself when he realized he didn’t have gloves to try to unwrap the wires with and nothing to cut them off with. It was a bit of a hike back to the trench, and he wasn’t sure if it was best to go back and get something to cut it with or risk cutting his own hands on the wire.

His train of thought was cut off by footsteps in the mud on the other side of the horse. Schofield looked up to see a skinny young man looking back at him, clutching something in his hands. A tense second passed where they both critically examined the other, looking for signs of a threat. 

“Engländer,“ the boy said, holding out a hand to reveal two pairs of wire cutters, “für das Pferd.“ 

“Thank you,” Schofield said, taking one of the wire cutters handed to him. The boy looked around the same age as Blake, and he had a wary look in his eye as if he expected Schofield to hurt him. Which wasn’t unreasonable, given their present circumstances.

It was quiet as the two soldiers, one German and one English, began to carefully cut and unwrap the barbed wire from the horse, who flinched at the wires grazing over the scrapes and cuts they left behind. Schofield wasn't sure if he should say something or not. He was guessing that the boy didn't speak much English, and his German skills were practically nonexistent. 

Schofield bit his lip in pain when he felt a bit of the sharp metal dig into his palm, and he figured he must have made a noise of discomfort too since the German boy padded over to his side of the horse and pulled Schofield's hand close to inspect it.

"Ich helfe Sie," the boy said almost inaudibly.

Schofield put the wire cutters down to watch the boy carefully pull the barb out of his hand. Warm blood wetted his palm, and the young man patted it away before returning to the opposite side of the horse and continuing to remove the sharp wires. He thought that it was touching that someone who would normally attempt to kill him had instead helped him. 

A few more silent minutes later and they had cleared the hurt animal of barbed wire, and helped him to his feet. Schofield stroked his neck, looking over the injuries left behind. 

The horse looked tired, exhausted really, and mud coated much of his body, masking any identifying features. He hung his head, as if he didn't have the energy to carry it anymore. A frightened look lay in his half-closed eyes, and Schofield never knew horses could be so relatable. Schofield made quick work of removing the beaten up saddle and mindlessly dropping it to the ground. 

He and the young German both reached to take the reins over the horse's head. Both of them awkwardly backed down, unsure of who should take the horse.

They stood uncomfortably until the boy across from him stepped closer, gesturing to himself.

"Baumer," he said clearly, palm flat on his chest. Schofield nodded and copied Baumer's actions, pointing to himself.

"Schofield," he responded, unsure of where this was going.

Baumer pulled a coin out of his breast pocket and showed each side to Schofield, who figured out after a moment that he was supposed to pick a side. He tapped the heads side of it, and Baumer tossed it up in the air. When it thudded back to the muddy earth, the shiny coin was landed heads up.

"Es gibt meinen Kaiser. Hier, Schofield," Baumer said. The young man pulled the horse's reins over his head and handed them to Schofield, who took the horse and handed him the wire cutters back. 

Schofield nodded in thanks to the boy and they both turned to leave. Schofield turned back around and called out, "Baumer, wait." The boy walked back to him and quirked an eyebrow questioningly.

Putting the horse's reins in one hand, Schofield thrust his free hand to Baumer. They shook hands and wished each other luck in their respective languages. The horse limped as he began to lead it back, favoring the right front leg. Schofield kept a hand on the animal's neck in attempt to steady him.

When they reached the trench, they were greeted with an enthusiastic group of men gathered around, a few of whom climbed up to figure out how to get the horse down there. Schofield gave the reins to one of them, and took his tired body down into the trench again. Blake was next to him in an instant, having probably watched the whole thing.

"Who was the fellow up there with you?" he asked, following Schofield like a puppy.

"He said his name was Baumer. Didn't seem to speak English so that's all I can say about him," Schofield answered, sitting down where he had been trying to sleep before the horse rescue events transpired. He thanked his lucky stars that Blake seemed to realize that he did not have the energy to answer fifty different questions, and the two of them dozed off together once the excitement had calmed down.

As he faded back into the temporary peacefulness of sleep, he couldn't help but think of how strange things could be when he wasn't the one in control of his life. Rescuing a horse with the enemy wasn't what Schofield had planned on doing with his night, but then again, when the hell did his plans dictate anything nowadays?

**Author's Note:**

> this is def the most cringe ass nae nae fic I've ever written but oh well. feel free to correct my awful German abilities pls
> 
> william schofield confirmed as a horse girl.
> 
> find me on Tumblr @esteboo-ocon


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